The Real Miracle
by Flash Foreward
Summary: In the aftermath of his hospitalization, Barney has to come to terms with the way he feels about certain things. And how will the others take it? Spoilers for Miracles. Barney/Robin.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I tried to write this in the style of an episode (very tricky). The italics are future Ted talking to his kids, regular story is in regular text. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own How I Met Your Mother...

**The Real Miracle**

**Chapter One**

_Kids, you know how, during that hospital trip, Uncle Marshall spent a long time trying to convince Aunt Robin that everything happening that day boiled down to miracles? Well, in a way he was right. I mean, I survived a car crash and managed to salvage my relationship with Stella, and Uncle Barney survived being hit by a speeding bus. _

_But, well…it was going to take a lot to convince Robin that these things were miracles. It wasn't impossible, and that day did come, but not for a long time. And now I'm going to tell you the story of how that night and the days that followed caused your Aunt Robin to start doubting her staunch belief that miracles weren't real…_

Marshall was sitting at his computer, reading through old and new emails and waiting for Lily to get home from work when a panicked knock came at the door. He glanced across the room at Ted's closed bedroom door behind the cluttered desk and sighed, resigning himself to the fact that he would have to get up and answer the knock.

He gazed forlornly at his still unopened messages, debating about whether he should make the knocker wait, but his pause only served to aggravate the situation. The knocking grew louder and faster, and as it did, the door swung open to reveal a very distraught Barney Stinson (who had most obviously _not_ suited up).

"Geez, Marshall!" Barney said, his usually cool voice strained and quiet. He pulled on the collar of his t-shirt as though it were the lapels of a sport coat. "How many times has a guy gotta knock?"

"Uh, sorry, Barney, I was just checkin' my email," Marshall said, getting up from the table and gesturing to his lap top as he turned to face his friend. "What's up?"

"What's up?" Barney asked, forcing excitement into his voice. "What is up? Oh, never mind, is Ted around?" he asked, deflating as he walked quickly past Marshall and collapsed on the couch, running a hand over his face and through his hair as Marshall again turned to face him, hands on his hips.

"What's wrong, Barney?" he asked, sternly. Barney blindly waved him away with his free hand.

"Stop trying to sound like Lily," he said. "I am _not_ in kindergarten." Marshall shrugged and leaned against the bright red armchair by the couch, watching Barney with an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"I never said you were," Marshall said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I just asked what was wrong."

"Well, what's wrong, Marshall," Barney began, but he stopped abruptly and glanced behind him at Ted's bedroom door. He leaned towards Marshall. "Is Ted here?" he queried anxiously. Marshall shrugged.

"I think he's asleep," he said. Barney let out a long breath and leaned back against the couch.

"Good," Barney mumbled. "Sleep is good, very important…" he trailed off as he looked up at Marshall once again, halted in his mutterings by the confused look on the other man's face.

"Barney, are you alright?" he queried concernedly. Barney nodded slowly, but the gesture quickly turned into a shake of his head and he let out a loud groan.

"No, Marshall, I'm not alright," he said loudly, gesturing wildly with his hands. "I've lost it."

_Now, Marshall didn't need to ask what Barney had lost, none of us would have had we been in that situation. But, well, seeing Barney so out of sorts made Marshall a little nervous, so he asked anyway._

"What did you lose?" Marshall queried, Barney stared at him, open mouthed.

"Uh, my socks," Barney countered with forced sarcasm. He rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh, shaking his head as he revealed what was really on his mind. "I've lost my touch," he said, forlornly.

_And, finally, Marshall knew exactly what he was talking about._

"Have you been talking to Rhonda again?" Marshall asked, but Barney shook his head at the mention of the so-called 'man-maker.'

"No," he said, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees. He stared down at the coffee table in front of him, shaking his head the entire time. "No, Marshall, it isn't that. It's…well, it all started with the hospital."

"I thought you said that was the one bone that _wasn't_ broken," Marshall joked, trying to lighten the mood. When Barney didn't raise his gaze from the coffee table, Marshall rounded the piece of furniture and sat down beside Barney on the couch. "C'mon, man," he said, patting Barney's shoulder. "What's going on? What happened to Barney Stinson, Misogynist extraordinaire?"

"He fell in love," came Barney's muffled response as he shifted and pressed his hands over his face. Marshall froze.

"He what?" Marshall queried incredulously. "I could have sworn you just said that you-"

"I did say it, Marshall," Barney said, tilting his head away from his palms to look up at his friend. "I said it, and please don't repeat it. Or make me repeat it."

"Well, okay," Marshall said. "But, well, how did this happen?"

"I don't know," Barney replied, leaning back again. "It's just…it all started after I got hit by that bus and, well, when you were talking about that life flashing before your eyes hooey." Marshall snorted.

"You mean the boobs, booze, suits, and money?" he asked through a laugh, but his face quickly fell at the torment in Barney's eyes.

"I didn't see those," Barney choked out. "I saw, oh _god_, Marshall, I'm a failure! I haven't been able to sleep with a woman since I got out of my casts. Every time I try I see…," he trailed off, closing his eyes to block out Marshall's look of quizzical worry.

"What?" Marshall probed when it was obvious Barney wasn't going to continue without some persuading. "What do you see?" Barney shook his head.

"Not what, Marshall," he said. "Who. It's who." He groaned and ran a hand through his short blonde hair. "Marshall, I'm as pathetic as Ted!" Marshall opened his mouth to ask who, but Barney spoke before he could, "Robin," he said. "I see Robin."

"Robin?" Marshall queried incredulously, Barney glared at him.

"Yes," he snapped. "Robin. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Well, yeah," Marshall said. "Of course I have a problem with that. What happened to Barney Stinson, Misogynist extraordinaire?" As he spoke, the door across from Ted's bedroom swung open and he caught sight of Lily stepping through the door, rubbing sleep from her eyes and yawning. He frantically tried to catch her attention and get her to return to their bedroom, but Barney whipped his head around at Marshall's sudden, less than discreet movements and groaned.

"I am _not_ explaining this to her, too," Barney said, turning back to Marshall and again tugging at his shirt as though it were suit jacket.

"Explain what to me?" Lily asked through a second yawn, padding across the hardwood floor and plopping down in the armchair. She crossed her legs and clasped her hands in her lap, gazing expectantly at Marshall. Barney glanced between the two, then shook his head and waited for the inevitable.

"He's lost it," Marshall said in a false whisper when he was sure Barney wasn't going to protest. Lily stared at him, then looked at Barney, then back and shook her head.

"Have you been talking to-" she began, but Marshall quickly cut her off.

"He says he hasn't," he explained excitedly. "He claims he's fallen in love." Lily burst out laughing. She bent her head and her hair fell over her face as she tried to stifle the uncontrollable giggles erupting from her mouth. Barney just stared straight ahead, trying to tune it all out. Slowly, Lily gained control over her laughter and it began to lessen, though a few giggles still escaped from her lips as she spoke.

"B…Barney?" she gasped. "The king of misogyny, Barney Stinson? In love?" Marshall nodded and Lily clapped a hand over her mouth as she started to laugh again. Marshall glanced at Barney, who's face was impassive, his hands clasped in his sweat-pant clad lap as he waited for the exchange to finish. Marshall shrugged and leaned towards Lily.

"With _Robin_," he whispered, and Lily's laughter stopped.

"What?" she posed, staring at Barney. "_Robin_?" He nodded. "How…what…why?" Barney snapped his head around to glare at Lily as the string of incoherent questions left her mouth; she cringed away from the intense look in his eyes.

"This," he said, pointing rapidly at each of them. "This does not reach Ted." Marshall and Lily nodded frantically.

_And it didn't reach me, not until years later when Robin and Barney were planning their wedding. Somehow, the look in Barney's eye made Marshall and Lily very ken on keeping their mouths shut_

"Good," he finished with a sharp nod, and he left Marshall and Lily sitting open mouthed, staring at the seat he had previously occupied.

"Should we wake Ted?" Lily posed, but Marshall shook his head.

"Let him sleep," he whispered almost reverently. "Besides, I don't think I could face him now." Lily shook her head in agreement.

"Me neither."

_Now, it's actually kind of a good thing they didn't try to wake me, because I wasn't in my room. I'd spent the night at Stella's and was having breakfast with her and Lucy as they spoke._

"Ted?" Stella called from the kitchen. "Could you cut up Lucy's pancakes for her?" Ted bounded in from the hallway, grinning and clasping his hands together.

"Sure thing," he said as he took the plate Stella was holding out for him. He set it on the table, grabbed a knife and fork, and began cutting the pancakes up into bite-sized pieces. Lucy sat at the table, watching him intently. When he was done, he slid the plate over to her, but she just looked up at him with wide eyes.

"You're supposed to put the syrup on before you cut them," she said, softly. Ted hung his head slightly, gazing forlornly at the expertly cut pancakes. But he broke into a smile when Stella's light laughter reached his ears.

"It's okay, sweetie," Stella said, setting down two more plates of pancakes and usurping Ted's position to pour syrup on her daughter's plate. "There, how's that?" she asked, handing Lucy a fork. The girl smiled.

"Thank you, mommy, thank you, Ted," she said before digging into her breakfast. Stella gazed lovingly down at her daughter for a moment, then turned her attention to Ted. She placed a soft kiss on his lips and patted his shoulder.

"Yes, thank you, Ted," she said before rounding the table and sitting down. Ted grinned and sat down to his own pancakes.

_As for where Barney went and what he did, all I know of that comes from hearsay, nothing really definitive. My main sources are bartenders and a very drunk Barney. So, I'm really not sure how accurate this is._

Barney stumbled into McLaren's, finally suited up, though his shirt and pants were wrinkled and he was missing a tie. He walked as purposefully as he could to the bar while scanning the patrons, catching sight of Robin and her current beau sitting at a booth near the juke-box.

He ordered his scotch and took a few sips, watching Robin as discreetly as he could. He cringed when she laughed, her face lighting up as she leaned towards the table and placed a hand lightly on her date's arm, he took another sip at the sight, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat.

When he looked away to order another drink, he felt someone watching him and he glanced over his shoulder to see that her date was gone and she had caught sight of him. He quickly became interested in the girl beside him, smiling and chatting her up as he would have done immediately just a few months ago, but all the while aware of _her_ eyes on him.

"Barney?" her voice came from behind him and he froze, unsure of how he'd missed her approach. He realized, however, that he'd been focusing so hard on acting like his old self that he'd managed to forget, if only for a brief moment, the reason that he _wasn't_ his old self.

He smiled at the girl he had been speaking to and turned around, plastering on his usual grin as he came face to face with what he had dubbed his problem.

"Scherbatsky!" he exclaimed, opening his arms and sizing her up. "What brings you here?" She gave him an incredulous glance before ordering a glass of wine and sitting down on a stool at the bar. "What happened to your hot date?" he queried, sitting down himself and pushing his empty tumbler towards the bar tender.

"He had to go," she replied, sipping at her wine. "Work." Barney nodded, picking up his refilled drink and gulping a mouthful down. "What are you doing here? Trolling for emotionless women with low self-esteem?"

"Oh, Scherbatsky!" Barney moaned overdramatically, clapping a hand to his chest and leaning towards her. "You know just how low to hit." He grinned at her smirk and took another sip of his drink, leaning back again. He set down his tumbler and took a deep breath. "Actually," he said, making his voice as peppy as possible. "I was looking for you."

Robin spluttered in surprise, and Barney quickly handed her a napkin to wipe away the wine that had dribbled down her chin. She set her glass and the napkin aside and studied him for a moment, squinting in confusion.

"For me?" she queried. "Why would _you_ be looking for _me_? Being one of your conquests really isn't on my list of things to do."

A joke came to him, pressing at his lips and playing at his tongue, but he pushed it aside. Now was not the time to remind her of _that_, especially in such a way as to make it seem like it had meant nothing to him. Because it had meant so more to him than he could ever say, though he _was_ willing to try.

"I was wondering," he began, but stopped, trying to find the right phrase. But then, in the back of his mind, he saw the image of her laughing with her hand on her date's arm, and all of his hope shattered. "I was, uh, just wondering how your date went," he finished, grabbing for his tumbler. Robin stared at him.

"It went fine," she said. Then paused, staring at him, taking in his oddly ragged appearance. "Where's your tie?" she asked.

"Huh?" he responded, having started tuning her out to berate himself for his foolishness.

"Your tie," she repeated, gesturing at his chest. "You're not wearing one."

"Oh, I, uh, just thought I'd go for a more casual look," he explained, wondering why he felt so flustered around her now, and then realizing that he always had, he'd just been better at hiding it before.

"Well," Robin said, interrupting his thoughts. She took a final swig of her wine and stood up. "I'd better head out; Lily and Marshall wanted some help deciding how to decorate their new place. I'll see you, Barney."

"See you," he said. She patted him on the shoulder, sending a jolt through him, and walked away, looking stunning. He watched her go, then ordered yet another scotch.

_Kids, this last part is my favourite. And, from what I gather, if it weren't for this incident, I probably would have found out about Barney's feelings for Robin much sooner._

"Alright, which paintings do you want?" Lily queried, holding up two of her favourite paintings. Marshall studied them for a moment before pointing to the one on the left. Lily nodded and set the other aside, laying out the chosen one on the coffee table.

"Guys," Robin's voice carried in from the kitchen and Lily turned to face her as she stepped out, carrying a cardboard box. "Is this still left over from your wedding?" she asked. Lily glanced at Marshall.

"No, we ate all of that," Marshall said. "Why, what is it?"

"It's a cake," Robin replied, setting it down on the round table just outside the kitchen door. Marshall got up from his seat on the couch and crossed to see it.

"Who's Lucy?" he asked, then stopped. "Oh! That's right, it's a birthday cake for Stella's daughter, Ted picked it up this morning." After this revelation, Marshall hurried back to his seat and motioned for Lily to continue with picking out decorations.

Robin stared at them, knitting her eyebrows and crossing her arms over her chest.

"What's with you two?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" Lily replied much too quickly.

"It's like, you've been trying not to talk to me all day," Robin explained. Lily glanced at Marshall, but he was still staring at Robin.

"Barney's in love with you," he blurted out, then he quickly clasped his hands over his mouth and looked pleadingly up at his wife, who had returned her gaze to Robin, cringing at what just happened.

"Oh," was all Robin said before she picked up the cake and returned to the kitchen.

_And that, kids, is how your Aunt Robin started to believe in miracles. According to her, anyway._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Robin stood in the kitchen, cake in hand, and just stared at the wall. A few minutes passed, and, though she knew Marshall and Lily were craning their necks to stare at her through the tiny window and the door, she ignored them and simply tried to make her brain work.

What Lily had said, it couldn't be possible. Barney Stinson couldn't fall in love, it was impossible.

And yet…

She remembered the story of Shannon. And the tape.

But, she reminded herself, that was before. The Barney Stinson she knew could not fall in love. It wasn't possible. She nodded her head as she came to that realization (or was it a rationalization?).

She set the cake down on the counter and walked briskly out of the kitchen. She snatched her coat from the chair she'd thrown it over and was out the door before she was even sure of where she was going, and by the time her mind caught up with her actions, she was back at McLaren's.

And Barney was still there.

She made sure he didn't notice her as she slid into a booth in the back corner, covering up her face with a magazine she had hidden in her purse for whatever boring occasion she had been forced to attend recently.

She peered over at him occasionally, watching him hit on the numerous hot girls at the bar, and even allowed a guy at the table next to hers to buy her a drink while she waited for Barney to leave with that night's conquest.

Sure enough, he left with the best looking girl there, his hand on the small of her back as he escorted her out; and Robin heaved a sigh of relief at the sight. He was still Barney Stinson, he was still the king of one night stands. He wasn't in love with her, he couldn't be.

But, in the back of her mind, she remembered that night, not too long ago, when they'd wound up sleeping together. And she remembered the way she had felt, about everything. The panic and worry aside, she couldn't get it out of her mind. And, with it, came a nagging something at the back of her mind, but she pushed it away.

There was no doubt; she was _relieved_ that Barney Stinson was still himself.

_Guys, I normally don't like to pass on Uncle Barney's…stories to you, but this one's important to the story, so I'll tell you what you need to know._

"Oh, you are amazing," the woman whispered into his ear, trailing her fingers along his chest and grinning. Barney nodded, staring up at the ceiling and willing himself to feel anything but empty.

He wasn't used to empty. Sure, after Shannon's betrayal he'd felt himself turning into a hollow shell of a man, but suiting up had changed all that. He had purpose, a sense of accomplishment. It was a life he was proud to lead.

Recently, however, he had stopped feeling accomplished and proud after a one-night stand, mainly because they'd really stopped being one-night stands.

Ever since he'd gotten the use of his limbs back, he'd been consistently taking home brunettes, though it took him quite awhile to actually notice the pattern; and one of the earlier nights, after all was said and done, the woman had gone and asked the one question Barney had dreaded:

_"Who's Robin?"_

Now, the one thing that had given him a feeling of fulfillment and pleasure was just temporarily filling some sort of void.

"Barney?" the woman beside him whispered, bringing him out of his thoughts. He glanced over at her.

"You've gotta go," he said. She stared at him, squinting in confusion, but he only repeated himself. "No, really, you've gotta go."

"Why, are you married?" she mocked, laughing lightly, he was sure, at the mere thought. He shook his head.

"I, uh, have an early morning tomorrow," he hastily explained, trying to usher her out of his bed.

"All right, all right," she muttered, snatching at her clothes as she slipped off of the bed and onto the floor. "I'm going!" She dressed quickly and shot Barney what she must have thought was a withering glare before storming out (to Barney, it just looked like a drunk chick trying not to stumble on her way to the bathroom).

Finally, he heard the slam of his apartment door and he settled back on his bed. He contemplated turning on his television, but the bedroom was dark and he preferred to keep it that way. He closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep.

_Now, you kids already know that Uncle Marshall can't really keep a secret. I mean, he'd already told Aunt Robin what Barney had told him not to tell even me, and you also know that I never actually found out until much later. I suppose you're wondering how Uncle Marshall could have kept it from me._

_Well, he didn't really. He actually tried to tell me, but I wasn't listening. I was too busy with Stella._

_You see, she hadn't technically agreed to marry me after I proposed, all she said was "we'll see." So I was doing all I could to convince her that we should get married, which meant everything else was unimportant, including anything that came out of Marshall's mouth in those few days before he and Lily finally moved into their apartment._

"Marshall," Lily called out, running into the living room, dragging a rolling suitcase behind her. "Marshall, we have a problem," she continued, throwing the suitcase at her feet as she faced her husband where he sat on the couch. "We need another suitcase."

"Lily, we have plenty of boxes," Marshall replied, his eyes on the television. Lily glanced from Marshall to the screen, then stepped in front of him, blocking the show from view.

"I am _not_ putting any part of my wardrobe in a _cardboard_ _box_, Marshall," she protested, but she didn't get to finish. As she spoke, the door swung open and Ted walked in, whistling as he tossed his keys onto the small table by the door.

"Hey, guys," he said, but Marshall and Lily didn't respond. They were staring wide eyed at each other as Ted crossed behind the couch and up into his bedroom. Lily kept shaking her head, glancing at the now ajar door Ted had just gone through, but Marshall was nodding.

"We. Can't." Lily said forcefully.

"We _have_ to," Marshall responded.

"No," Lily countered. "No, we don't. We have to…to…oh, as much as I hate saying it, we have to respect Barney's wishes," she finally finished, emphasizing with her hands as she spoke. When Marshall began to shake his head, Lily let her arms fall to her side and heaved a sigh.

"We already _haven't_," Marshall insisted. "And, don't you think," he continued, leaning forward, "that telling _Robin_ was worse?"

"No," Lily snapped in reply. "No, I don't. I think telling Ted is worse because he specifically said not to tell Ted."

"Guess what guys," Ted said, walking out of his room. He passed by the couch just as Lily jumped over the coffee table and onto Marshall's lap. She pressed her hand over her husband's mouth, struggling as he tried to break free of her grasp.

"What, Ted?" she asked, turning her head to watch as Ted walked past them and into the kitchen. He pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and took a long gulp.

"Lucy likes me," he said once he'd swallowed. "I cut up her pancakes for her this morning and, even though I did it wrong, she didn't throw a fit."

"That's great, Ted!" Lily choked out as Marshall finally pulled her off of him.

"Barney's in-" he started, but ended with a grunt as Lily kicked him in the side. "Hey!" he gasped, grabbing her by the ankles to hold her still. He looked up to continue his revelation, but Ted was gone.

"Thanks a lot, Lily," Marshall grumbled, letting go of her legs and returning his attention to the television.

"It's for his own good," she replied, sitting up and gazing forlornly at her suitcase. "Now, about those suitcases."

"We have boxes," Marshall replied absentmindedly. Lily groaned and stood, she grabbed her suitcase and rolled it back to the bedroom, leaving Marshall alone. With the phone.

And it rang.

Marshall glanced at his and Lily's bedroom door before snatching the phone from its cradle.

"Hello?" he asked, only half listening for whoever was on the other end, he was more focused on the show he was half way through.

_"Hey, Marshall, were you trying to tell me something?" _came Ted's voice. Marshall froze. He glanced behind him again, then leaned forward and cupped the receiver to his lips before whispering his response.

"Barney came by today," he said, but Ted interrupted him a second later.

_"The cake!"_ he said. _"I forgot Lucy's cake." _And with that, Ted hung up.


End file.
